And Even Then
by nlizzette7
Summary: They get by with a little help from their friends. Drabble inspired by the friendship of the NJBC [Non-Judging Breakfast Club] with Serenate and Chair pairings.


:::**2002**:::

They are ten-years-old.

Eleanor is busy, of course. _Big things happening for Waldorf Designs, big things! _Lily is, where is Lily, anyway? Another husband? Another honeymoon? _But I'll bring something lovely back for you, I promise. _Anne Archibald _just_ _really must attend the blah event for the blah society of blah things _[they're all the same, aren't they?]

And Bart Bass…do we really need an explanation?

So there they all are in the Waldorf household, ushered in by a chubby young maid [barely speaks English, who knows if this _Dorota _will be around for more than a week].

A pretty boy – like, really pretty – with pretty hair and dimpled cheeks and a shy grin. But maybe it's not shy. Maybe he knows exactly what that grin will get him.

And a blonde girl. She's pretty, too. She walks in like a beautiful little tornado, starts tipping little figurines over and plucking flowers from the vases to braid in her hair.

Another boy. The boy with a wicked grin and the perfect cowlick, eyebrows raised at all of them. He immediately snaps his fingers at Dorota and adjusts the scarf around his little neck. _One shot of apple juice coming straight up._

And then there's the little girl coming down the stairs in a freshly ironed dress, sparkling Mary Jane's, and a silk headband with a perfect little bow. _Perfect perfect perfect._

"Hey, I'm Nate."

"I'm Serena. With an _S_."

"Me? I'm…Chuck Bass."

"I'm Blair Waldorf, of course."

_And thus it begins._

An hour later, they are talking like they've known each other all along. And Blair is giving Nate these eyes because_ wouldn't they look like a couple from the movies and then they'd get married and have beautiful kids and…_

Nate is transfixed by Serena as she dances around the room, wreaking havoc among Blair's perfectly lined silk scarves and perfumes. And Blair watches on in horror, trying to decide if she hates her or loves her. Because no one's ever been as much fun as Serena.

Because no one's ever been more perfect than Blair – _without even trying_.

And then Chuck plucks the headband from Blair's hair, and she screams because _it took her hours to get it right this morning_. And he's holding it out of her reach until she jumps just high enough to snatch it out of his hands.

"I hate you," she hisses.

"No, you _love _me."

"Ugh. No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. Say it."

"No way."

_Yes. Even then. _

* * *

:::**2022**:::

They are twenty-six-years-old.

Blair is really busy now, of course. _ Big things happening for Waldorf Designs. Huge things! _Serena is…where has Serena been, anyway? Another getaway? Another one of her adventures? _But she always comes back for her friends. She promises. _Nate Archibald _just_ _really had to get another deadline in for another column for The Spectator_ [nobody really knows how he managed that].

And Chuck Bass…do we really need an explanation?

_"Do you ever feel like our lives have been planned out for us? That we're just going to end up like our parents?"_

_"Man, that's a dark thought."_

So there they all are in the Waldorf household [guys, please _don't be late_ – it's brunch, not dinner], ushered in by a glowing maid. Her name is Dorota. And yes, it's been much longer than one week.

A handsome man – like, really handsome – with hair cut short and wrinkled eyes and a cocky grin. But maybe it's not cocky. Maybe he's just happy to see his wife.

And here she is now, a blonde woman. Stunning, just stunning. Her dress is prim and her hair is proper, but her eyes are wild – telling the stories of all of the things she's done. And all of the things she didn't.

Another man. He's got this wicked grin and a tiny bit of gray in his slicked-back hair. He kisses Dorota on the cheek and begs her to whip him up a Scotch [per usual].

And then there's _his _wife, coming down the stairs in one of her own designs that match her perfect shoes, her perfect hair. _Perfect perfect perfect._

_And thus it begins._

An hour later, Blair kicks those shoes off, and Chuck massages her feet while they take all take turns updating each other on their lives. But it's a game, you know? To make things interesting, everyone has to take a shot if they say _The Spectator or Waldorf Designs or The Empire or social club_.

They're all tipsy in fifteen minutes.

And sometimes Blair will glance at Nate and smile because she remembers that they started all of this. There would be no Chuck and Blair or Nate and Serena. Not if there hadn't been Blair and Nate first.

And Nate smiles back, playing with Serena's hair as she tells the group her stories [always always the best ones], and Blair smiles at her best friend. Because even when she hates her, she just loves her.

And then Chuck finishes his drink and steals hers too.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," he grins, planting a kiss on her frowning lips.

"I hate you," she teases.

"No, you love me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Say it, Waldorf. Three words…eight letters…"

_Yes. Even now._


End file.
